Give me quiet resting-places,

Lord, beneath the shade of palms;

Where the heavenly pilgrims gather,

Where they sing their joyful psalms:

There they linger to make mention

Of Thy faithfulness and grace,

Till their sorrows are forgotten

In the pleasure of Thy praise.

Happy is the brethren's discourse,

As they seek the better land;

Not an evil tongue to flatter,

Nor a traitor's cruel hand:

Heavenly dew on each experience,

Words of faith in glad refrain--

All are filled with sweet home-longing,

Where the end is glorious gain.

Lord, until we reach uphold us!

It is but a little while;

When the journey darkly closes

Let Thy sunlight on us smile:

Let the breezes of the Home-land

Meet us in the valley's gloom;

Till our feet are safely treading

Hills of light and fadeless bloom.